Helpless
by skilled-like-a-ninja
Summary: He looked so helpless. ][ Maybe it was something he was never supposed to remember. [Roxamine twoshot]
1. Part I: Namine

**Disclaimer: **Nothing you recognize is mine. And the song lyrics in italics are from Sanctuary by Utada Hikaru (I believe it's also called Passion).

**Author's Notes:** This one's a RoxasxNamine, because I lurvses them... in case anyonen was wondeirng, my fave pairings are SoraxKairi, RoxasxNamine, and YuffiexLeon. In case you couldn't tell. My muse insisted I write this... there's a happy one coming up, I swear. Also, my memory's a bit fuzzy on the whole thing with Namine and DiZ thing so please forgive me if I've messed something up. I didn't pay particularly close attention during that part. And also sorry for not having an accent thing on Namine's name but I'm technically challenged and have no idea how to make that.

I've moved this out of my drabble thread because it has two parts, plus the first one went over 500 words. So I thought it merited having its own story. Please review, and enjoy!

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_I watch you_

_Fast asleep_

_All I fear_

_Means nothing_

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He looked so helpless, asleep against a wall, clad all in black. Somehow the black made him look…smaller. His spiky golden hair stood out against it, and had his eyes been open she was sure they would have too. She wondered what color they were. He wasn't anything but a boy, maybe of her own age. She felt a shadow of pity cross her as the looked at him. Poor thing. It wasn't his fault, but there was no avoiding it.

She was loathe to do this. DiZ told her it would be all for the best, and that he must be reunited with his other. That it was for his own good. But…she didn't want to wipe his memory. It was so unfair. He didn't deserve for this to happen to him.

The girl's fingers itched for her sketch pad. She wanted to draw, to hide herself away from the world and what she knew she would have to do in the end. She wanted to lose herself in the art. But she knew it would have to wait.

Namine sighed, looking at the boy with indecision in her eyes. This boy wasn't supposed to exist. He was just a nobody. But still… Did anyone really deserve to have all they knew taken away from them?

No.

Her pale fingers twisted around a lock of her own pale gold hair. She did not want to do this. She knew she was being used, but there was not a thing she could do about it. In any case, she needed to finish chaining Sora's memories together. And for that, she needed…._him_,

Namine knew she would do it in the end. She sighed once again, looking regretfully at the boy one last time. She whispered his name, trying the sound of it out.

"Roxas."

She could have sworn the boy twitched slightly in his slumber. She fixed his image in her mind, before turning around, and, without a backward glance, silently leaving the room. To tell DiZ she would do it.

Roxas's fate was sealed.


	2. Part II: Roxas

**Disclaimer: **Not mine, not at all.

**Author's Notes: **Here's part two, from Roxas's point of view. Please review! Thanks for reading!

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The white was blinding. The only bits of color were the pictures. Roxas ambled around the room restlessly, observing each of the pictures in turn with bright blue eyes. He recognized many of the people in these pictures – Sora, Donald, and Goofy, among others. He had dreamed about all of them.

There was a chilling illustration of him and Axel in a deserted street. It disturbed him to think that this scene before his eyes had actually happened to him, yet he didn't remember it. He didn't like thinking that someone else had messed with his memories. Not one bit. It left a nagging feeling in the place where his heart would have been – were any of his memories real? What was in his past anyway?

Roxas was just about to leave, having made a full circuit of the room, when he noticed a small piece of paper that had fallen under the table. It looked like it wasn't important at all, but he stooped down and picked it up out of curiosity anyway.

His breath caught in his throat. It was a shockingly realistic image… of him. He was apparently asleep, against a wall somewhere he didn't recognize. He was sure it was himself – he couldn't mistake his own spiky golden locks. Roxas recognized the black, cloak he was wearing from the picture of him and Axel.

This must be something he'd forgotten. Or maybe it was something he was never supposed to remember.

Unnerved, Roxas stuffed the small drawing in his pocket and left the White Room in a hurry. His past was a question, and he wanted the answer.


End file.
